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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418940">Dawn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cr0wned/pseuds/cr0wned'>cr0wned</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(by which I mean I picked and chose and made my own canon), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:14:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,187</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cr0wned/pseuds/cr0wned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Allspark is gone and with it the last hope for rebuilding the Cybertronian people.<br/>Fortunately, Shockwave has been known to perform a miracle or two. Whether it will be enough to save them from extinction remains to be seen...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Once, the tower had been nothing special. Pure chance had this one structure survive with only minimal damage when the city was razed. Shockwave moved in after, renovated, fortified. It became one of many Decepticon outposts in the sector, medium-sized and still utterly unremarkable given the circumstances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it housed all that remained of the Decepticon forces on Cybertron - the nerd squad, as the Air Commander’s loudmouth wingmate had once gleefully called them - and even with all of them claiming far more space than their rank would normally entitle them to, the tower was barely two thirds inhabited. They had split the recreation room from the mess hall and the communication hub from data storage, and even had a whole room solely dedicated to mission briefings. The rest was workshops, laboratories, storage, or “potential future work space” which was really just a less depressing way of saying that it was empty because the tower had been meant to house a few hundred mechs and there were less than a dozen living in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, the tower was special now. It didn’t have a name, but it didn’t need to. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>the tower. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was no place similar to it that it could be confused with. It was the one center of life left on their dying planet. The one place that could reasonably be called </span>
  <em>
    <span>habitable. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It had withstood acid rainstorms - when it had been necessary, before Acid Storm had perfected control of that particular weather phenomenon - and the horde of empties that once attempted to breach it. That one small group of guerilla Autobots that had likely perished by now had never made it past the outer perimeter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the tower came swarms of drones, dull grey figures in different sizes and shapes, each one made by Shockwave’s tireless, clever hands - okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hand </span>
  </em>
  <span>- that started the arduous task of cleaning up the ravaged landscape and salvaging materials from the rusted remnants of battlefields and bombed out cities. They hadn’t gotten terribly far, but seeing them work away at it helped stave off the creeping despair at the state of their planet. Or it had, until three vorn ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About four vorn ago, Decepticon Command had re-established communication with Cybertron. Their pursuit of the Autobots across the stars had been successful, the Allspark located on a remote organic planet, now fought over by the factions once more. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That one chance to revive their world and save their species had been found again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it was gone. The Autobots’, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prime’s, </span>
  </em>
  <span>greatest betrayal. Sacrificed to save a planet not their own, though no one doubted that there had been spite in the decision as well. The Autobots would rather see the Allspark destroyed than returned to a Decepticon controlled Cybertron. They would rather see the planet wither away and their species die out. There would be no more new sparks born from that sacred artifact. What remained of the Cybertronian race would be the last generation, fated to tear itself apart until there was nothing left of them but rust and ashes to be swept away by time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was unacceptable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, in that special tower, Shockwave got to work.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have the first proper chapter pretty much done, so that should go up soon. I do have the entire story outlined, including an ending for once - so maybe this story won't end up the way most of my other stories did (read: abandoned) - it's mostly just a matter of actually finding the motivation to write it out :'D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Miracle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>!! When I originally posted this chapter, part of it got cut off. As of the 3rd of April, I have added what was lost. !!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hotlink fancied himself a bit of a scientist. Technically he was somewhere between engineer and mechanic, he knew, but it sure had been enough for Decepticon Command to label him “science division” once upon a time. Which in itself was a bit of a mess, given that “science” was a very broad term. They didn’t have a “fighting division” now did they?</p><p>Either way, as an arguably-a-scientist, Hotlink knew that some laws of nature were more like guidelines and others were not. You could suspend gravity if you had the right tools. You could not create matter out of nothing. </p><p>Just as there could not be a new spark without the Allspark. </p><p>And yet, there in front of him on the table, surrounded by monitors and tools, lay a mech he had never seen before. The last new arrival on base had been Flamewar many decavorn ago. Hotlink knew every mech left on Cybertron - and they were all accounted for, even if there had been any reason why one would get reframed. Most of them were in this very room, in fact.</p><p>“Who <em> is </em>that?” he asked finally.</p><p>Shockwave, standing on the opposite side of the table as he regarded the five seekers he had summoned, gestured toward Nacelle. </p><p>Nacelle’s vocalizer clicked as he reset it nervously: “Uh, I was thinking Sunstorm’d be a good name. Because… because of the color...”</p><p>Well, the mech sure was a very golden color. That was about as far as Hotlink’s thoughts got before Slipstream audibly growled.</p><p>“You knew about this?!” she snarled, wings hiking up. Her frame was slender and short, built for speed, and the top of her head barely came up to Nacelle’s chin. Still, the other mech cringed away. Hotlink didn’t blame him, well aware of the Captain’s temper. He didn’t feel particularly sorry for Nacelle, though - Slipstream was their commander, and Nacelle’s assigned wingleader, and frankly Hotlink himself wasn’t all that happy to have this sprung on him out of nowhere either.</p><p>“I was under orders!” Nacelle insisted, hands thrown up.</p><p>“He was,” Shockwave confirmed, “I needed his assistance in designing the frame. Otherwise, he would not have known either. No one was meant to know until success was guaranteed.”</p><p>Slipstream’s glare did not grow any less venomous, but it was Acid Storm who spoke next, much calmer even though Hotlink knew them well enough to catch on that they were not happy either.</p><p>“Why? And what exactly <em> is </em>‘a success’?”</p><p>Nacelle glanced at Shockwave and Hotlink saw the flash of relief on his face when their Commander straightened and took over: “He is stable. The risk of sudden fatal cascade failure has decreased to an acceptable level. His existence needed to be kept secret to avoid any word of it reaching our enemies - and to reduce the decrease in morale should he perish.”</p><p>“So, who is he?” Hotlink asked, consciously <em> not </em>folding his arms across his chassis in the pouty gesture he wanted to. </p><p>“Kinda looks like Starscream,” several optics found Bitstream, who shifted awkwardly, tone turning into a mumble, “Y’know, ‘xcept for the all the gold...”</p><p>“Starscream is with the rest of High Command,” Slipstream said, calmer but still with a sour expression. It didn’t quite cover the way the statement was threatening to turn into a question at the end.</p><p>“Correct,” Shockwave confirmed.</p><p>“The Air Commander’s specifications are the most complete ones I got,” Nacelle piped up, “I helped design his current frame, so with the time crunch, I figured I’d reuse that base.”</p><p>Something he didn’t seem too thrilled about. Hotlink almost rolled his optics. Nacelle was the type of mech who considered his craft - frame design - more of an art than a science and generally preferred to make each piece unique. Taking the same base and modifying it was a <em> shortcut, </em> and Primus below, how could one even <em> consider</em>!</p><p>“So, who is that?” Hotlink repeated and stabbed a digit toward the mech on the table.</p><p>“The first Cybertronian not born from the Allspark,” Shockwave said.</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Even Nacelle seemed surprised. </p><p>Five pairs of optics focused on the golden form on the table. The dull noises of machinery working not quite flawlessly due to substandard materials was the only sound in the room. Somewhere down the hall there were footsteps, their source blissfully unaware of the reality shattering sentence that had just been uttered.</p><p>Eventually, Acid Storm shifted in place and asked, voice little more than a whisper: “....a reformat?” </p><p>“No.”</p><p>The silence descended once again.</p><p>“Impossible.”</p><p>Slipstream’s tone was biting but Hotlink could see in her expression what he himself felt: Hope, restrained because of just how painful it would be to allow it and then have it crushed once more. </p><p>“No longer,” Shockwave said, the picture of calm, and Hotlink wondered what the Commander’s face would look like if he still had one. His voice certainly gave nothing away. No pride, no hope of his own. “He will need to be mentored,” Shockwave continued, “Taught. I am not suited for this task.”</p><p>Well, true. It had taken the mechs present close to a decavorn to figure out how to make the interpersonal part of their relationship with Shockwave work. The Commander was a genius in many ways, but he was lacking in the social department. Not that he could really be blamed for it, but still.</p><p>“And that’s where we come in,” Slipstream said, taking a step closer to the golden mech.</p><p>Shockwave dipped his body slightly forward in the only approximation of a nod he was capable of: “Correct. You will oversee his flight and martial training once he is ready. Acid Storm,” the green seeker straightened, “I leave his theoretical education to you. Bitstream, Hotlink, you are to take care of the rest.”</p><p>“...the rest?” Hotlink echoed, still not quite over the fact that there was a mech whose life had not come from the Allspark in front of him.</p><p>“He will need to be supervised. I do not have the resources for a step-by-step upgrade schedule, thus all his systems are already fully installed. Though I have deactivated some for the time being, he has access to enough to do serious harm to himself, others, or this base.”</p><p>“Also all the mundane stuff,” Nacelle added, evidently mostly recovered from the shock and increasingly eager, “Self-maintenance, fueling, flight-”</p><p>“His thrusters are among the disabled systems.”</p><p>“Won’t be forever! Um, sir,” he tacked on hurriedly.</p><p>Hotlink returned his attention to the seeker on the table. He took a cautious step closer and felt Bitstream do the same. His digits brushed Hotlink’s for a moment, then he was reaching for the golden plating. Hotlink didn’t need to see his face to know the awe he would see there - he could feel it clearly enough. Dark digits made contact with golden plating so lightly as if Bitstream feared it would shatter under his touch. </p><p>Impossible, Slipstream had said, and that was exactly what it was.</p><p>Shockwave was typing away at a nearby console and the hum of systems booting up fully sent the slightest of vibrations through the mech who could not exist. White hands twitched. Optical shutters opened, revealing optics as golden as the mech’s plating. They blinked, once, twice, and stared at the gathered mechs wide and… and innocent. How long had it been since there had been someone truly innocent on Cybertron? </p><p>Beside him, Bitstream shifted just a fraction of a centimeter and the golden seeker’s gaze shifted to the digits on his plating. Bitstream radiated a sudden <em> warmth </em>that Hotlink hadn’t felt in far too long and the smile on his own face came unbidden. </p><p>“Hello, Sunstorm,” he whispered.</p><p> </p><p>-- -- --</p><p> </p><p>“He will need a berth - in your guys’ room, ideally. Don’t think he should be left alone yet. I can get one from storage, there were a few left last time I took inventory.”</p><p>Nova Storm had waited for them right outside the hall Shockwave had claimed for his workspaces and Hotlink wasn’t sure if she had been eavesdropping or if Acid Storm had just instantly told their trine what was going on. Either way, Nova Storm had needed very little explanation for the golden seeker that needed Acid Storm on his left and Hotlink on the right to stay upright. </p><p>Their progress through the corridor was slow, not just because Sunstorm was unsteady but also because no one wanted to get more than a wing’s length away from him. Hotlink half expected Red Wing, Ion Storm, and Flamewar to come running to flock around the miracle mech as well. </p><p>Nova Storm was still talking, excitedly listing off what accommodations Sunstorm would need and how she was planning on getting them. Acid Storm firmly denied her suggestion of making treats, reminding her that they did not have the fuel to spare for that. It hardly slowed her down.</p><p>“Where’re we taking him anyway?” Hotlink asked and the whole group paused. Even Nova Storm quietened.</p><p>They all came to the same realization: If they took Sunstorm straight to Hotlink and Bitstream’s quarters, they were going to have to let him out of their sight. Compared to the average Decepticon unit they got along decently well, but they were territorial still and trying to enter another’s room was a line one did not cross lightly.</p><p>“Rec room?” Nacelle suggested eventually. </p><p>“Rec room,” Slipstream said firmly and that was that. They started moving again, shuffling awkwardly as Sunstorm tried to figure out how his limbs worked. </p><p>Fortunately he rec room was comparatively close and they managed to maneuver Sunstorm onto one of the scavenged couches with little trouble. Once sitting, he didn’t need their help to remain upright, so at least his gyros were working fine. Just unsure how to coordinate his limbs to move yet, then.</p><p>Hotlink slipped out from under the golden mech's arm and crouched on the ground in front of him instead.</p><p>“Hey,” he said and offered a smile, “You good?”</p><p>Sunstorm simply stared at him.</p><p>“His software’s still integrating, probably,” Nacelle explained, “Language is pretty high priority, so he’ll be understanding ‘n talking soon.”</p><p>Hotlink tried not to frown, a tiny thread of disappointment weaving through his spark. Bitstream’s hand landed on his shoulder, gentle but steadying. Patience was pushed at him and Hotlink accepted it easily.</p><p>Sunstorm had lifted his own hand and was slowly reaching for Hotlink’s shoulder and the digits resting on it. Concentration pinched his pale features and Acid Storm hovered, ready to intervene if the other mech lost his balance. </p><p>White digits bumped into Bitstream’s dark ones, drew back, tried two more times and finally came to cover them. The digits bent with a jerky motion, curling around the hand under it and digging lightly into Hotlink’s plating. Paint scraped under the clumsy touch, but the sting was easily soothed by the smile that bloomed on that white face.</p><p>An impatient rap of knuckles against the doorframe broke the spell. Hotlink’s head jerked around to face the sound and the others shifted around him, apparently taken just as off guard. Flamewar strolled into the room just far enough so she could lean against the wall next to the door with her arms and ankles crossed. Her plating was dirty, muck caked around the rims of her wheels and streaked across her chassis. Fresh from one of her excursions into the Cybertron beyond the tower’s perimeters then. </p><p>Flamewar was the only Decepticon who believed that the ragtag unit of Autobots that had been left behind when the Autobots launched project Ark was still out there. Though formally under different orders, she set out time and time again to find them. Ultimately, even Shockwave had given up on trying to reign her in, even though it certainly did not make Flamewar a very popular figure around the base.</p><p>“So,” she said and jerked her chin toward Sunstorm, “Who’s the new guy?”</p><p>Hotlink felt the sudden urge to put shield him from Flamewar’s prying optics. Silence hung for several moments and all the while, Flamewar’s face pinched into more of a frown.</p><p>“His name’s Sunstorm,” Nova Storm piped up finally, “He’s, uh… he’s kind of…”</p><p>She trailed off. </p><p>“New,” Slipstream supplied and Flamewar snorted air through her vents, sending small bits of dirt flying.</p><p>“No slag. He mute or something?”</p><p>She pushed off the wall and stepped closer -- only to freeze when most of the Seekers gathered instantly tensed and moved to intercept her. </p><p>“O-kay, what the slag’s going on here?,” she asked, though wisely she did not try to approach again. Slipstream stepped forward, brushing past Hotlink and Bitstream still in front of Sunstorm.</p><p>“He’s a youngling. A newspark,” she explained curtly, chin up as if challenging Flamewar. </p><p>And challenge Flamewar did with a bark of a laugh: “Pit scrap. The Allspark’s on-”</p><p>“Earth, yes,” Slipstream cut her off, “Sunstorm’s spark does not come from the Allspark. He's Shockwave's creation.”</p><p>Flamewar was silent for a long moment, her expression a mix of doubt and confusion and just a shred of hope.</p><p>“...why?,” she asked finally.</p><p>Hotlink blinked: “Why?”</p><p>Flamewar unfolded her arms to sharply gesture with one hand: “Yeah, <em> why. </em> We located the Allspark. Once Lord Megatron brings it back, we’ll have all the new sparks we need. Why make <em> that, </em>” she nodded toward Sunstorm again, “now? What’s changed?”</p><p>Silence engulfed the room again. Being a group of mostly scientifically minded people and not ones who were inclined to believe what they were told without question regardless, it was uncomfortable to notice that they had just... accepted something so major, so impossible.</p><p>“Maybe he was already working on it?,” Nova Storm suggested quietly, “Or maybe it’s because the Allspark can’t make enough sparks quickly enough?”</p><p>“No,” Slipstream said abruptly, “That is not the reason.”</p><p>Acid Storm shifted uneasily and took a step forward: “Captain, we were ordered-”</p><p>Slipstream waved them into silence easily: “I know. But as acting Air Command I am making a command decision.”</p><p>Acid Storm settled but their muttered “Captain” and bowed head spoke of unease and disagreement.</p><p>“The Allspark is gone,” Slipstream said, “It has been for a vorn and two quartex. The Autobots had it destroyed rather than let it fall into our hands. When we received word of it, Shockwave ordered those who witnessed the message -- myself, Acid Storm, and Red Wing -- to treat the information as classified for the time being.”</p><p>Unspoken went the fact that Shockwave would not be happy to learn that Slipstream had gone against said orders. It seemed insignificant compared to what they had just heard. </p><p>Hotlink was suddenly glad he had not gotten up from his crouch; his legs may well have buckled had he been standing.</p><p>“Gone?,” Bitstream whispered and the grief and horror that seemed to open up like a chasm in Hotlink’s spark was not just his own.</p><p>“Well, explains that, I guess,” Flamewar said, going for biting indifference but betrayed by the waver in her voice. </p><p>Nacelle looked from his trine leader to Sunstorm, then took a seat on another couch, visibly struggling not to slump. Nova Storm was looking at Acid Storm with no small amount of anger and betrayal. </p><p>“Lord Megatron will crush the Autobots for what they did and then he will return home,” Slipstream continued finally, “In the meantime, we have a job to do.”</p><p>Slowly, she turned and gestured toward Sunstorm. Hotlink followed the motion with his optics and regarded this miracle mech once more. The smile had fallen from Sunstorm’s face -- evidently, he could read the room well enough even without full understanding of the words spoken. Instead, his expression had turned into one of slight worry and confusion.</p><p>Worry and confusion that Hotlink himself felt. Nothing felt certain, now, only one thing remained clear: This… this <em> youngling </em>represented the impossible and also the indispensable. He was the last chance for their race to persist.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aaand there we go. Sunstorm exists. We shall see what comes of that.<br/>All named characters have their own wiki page if you want to look them up, though I fudged the pronouns and characterizations here and there to spice it up.<br/>Keep in mind this chapter (and most of this story in general) is written from a Decepticon viewpoint and thus far from unbiased. That colors their assumptions on Autobot motivations and how they perceive the events of the war taking place. Just keep that in mind if the Autobots seem like "the bad guys".</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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